


Duplicity

by Jaiden_S



Series: Unknown [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Clintasha - Freeform, F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 05:06:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1886199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaiden_S/pseuds/Jaiden_S
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Clint shows up two years after he vanished, Natasha is torn between punching him or kissing him...or both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duplicity

**Author's Note:**

> Duplicity  
> Author: Jaiden S  
> Beta: Alexcat  
> Fandom: The Avengers, Marvel Movie Universe  
> Characters: Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton  
> Rating: Adult – language & sexual situations  
> Timeline: One month after the events of “Captain America: The Winter Soldier”
> 
> This story is part of the Unknown story arc and occurs immediately after the events of "Uncertainty." http://archiveofourown.org/works/1594967/chapters/3392183
> 
> This story may be read as a stand alone, though the characters will show up in later stories.
> 
> Boa noite - Good evening  
> Desculpe - Excuse me

On a normal evening, Rio de Janeiro was hotter than 10,000 hells, but during a football match, the heat became oppressive. Bodies surged together toward the entrance to Maracanã Stadium, jostling and shoving each other out of the way. Natasha held the back of her hand to her nose and inhaled the scent of her lotion, a blessed respite from the pungent tang of sweat and stale beer that wafted upward from the main breezeway below. Behind her, a suite full of VIPs chatted about the upcoming match and sipped on overpriced, watered-down cocktails. Somewhere in that crowd was the man she’d been hired to track.

She tugged at her miniskirt and wished for the thousandth time that she could have skipped the ridiculously tiny crop-topped version of a footballer’s uniform. The suite manager frowned at her and snapped his fingers. She nodded, pasted on a smile and walked back inside the suite. At a glance, she knew that the guy in the gray suit had a pistol strapped to his calf and could probably take her out with one punch, that the man to his right smoked and that his date knew more about foreign politics than she was letting on. She knew the best escape route was at the rear of the room through the service corridor, and that it would take her exactly 27 steps to reach the doorway from where she stood. 

Natasha scanned the room until she spotted her mark, a low-level Spanish official named Valdes who ran cocaine to and from South America. Her employer wanted proof of that as well as the location of the exchange. Nothing like a couple of rival drug lords to make an evening interesting. Whatever. It paid the bills. 

“Boa noite,” she said with a smile and held out her tray of drinks. Valdes flicked his eyes to her for a moment, then promptly ignored her. She brushed her fingertips over the giant blinking button on her chest that said BRASIL in huge green letters, activated the recording device, and proceeded to offer drinks to the rest of the group. The talk shifted to a vigorous discussion of the previous day’s football matches. At first, she believed them to be arguing about the final scores, but after a moment, she realized the scores were codes for times, dates and addresses for an exchange. She leaned in closer to record more of what they said.

Valdes laughed heartily at someone’s joke and took a step backward. Natasha took a step forward, and when they “accidentally” bumped, she covertly attached a tracking device to the hem of his sports jacket. “Desculpe,” she said in apology. He gave her a glare, but she got what she needed.

Quickly, she walked to the bar at the end of the room and set her tray on the edge of it. She’d hover around Valdes one last time, then disappear out the back. As she removed the empty glasses from her tray, something small whizzed just overhead, stirring the hairs on the crown of her head. Her head swiveled around. Embedded in the wall behind her was a tiny dart with a note attached. She unfurled the paper. _RUN._

Natasha dropped to her knees behind the bar and pushed on the rear door. It opened silently and she crawled into the narrow, bustling service hallway. Just as the door closed behind her, she heard the cries of “Policia!” She rose to her feet and broke into a jog, dodging servers and waitresses as she ran. Unfortunately, she hadn’t noticed anything unusual about the job or the way the reception had played out. Other than that damned dart. Her brow furrowed. Someone had called the police, and if _he was_ here, things had truly gone sideways. If she knew him well, which she did, he’d be running for higher ground. A set of stairs leading to the stadium rooftop was set into an alcove off to her right. She took them two at a time and kicked open the door at the top of the landing. 

There he was, perched on the scaffolding like a vulture, bow strapped to his back. His face was shadowed, but she caught a flash of that smug, shit-eating grin. She wanted to slap it off his face. Carefully, Natasha picked her way along the metal structure until she reached him. 

“Natasha,” he said with a nod.

“Clint,” she replied. She balled her fist, drew back and hit him in the jaw with a cross-punch that made his head snap backward.

“What the hell?!” He rubbed his jaw with one hand and grabbed her wrist with the other.

“That’s for disappearing for two years,” she hissed, her eyes flashing with anger. She swung at him with her other fist, but he ducked out of the way. “Where the hell have you been?!”

“Can we argue later? I’m on a job.” 

Natasha wrenched her arm free from his grip. “So am I. Valdes. Surveillance.”

“I know. He hired me two days ago to take you out.”

Natasha’s jaw dropped. “Jesus. He knew? How could I have missed that? I’m slipping.”

“No, you blew your covers when you testified. All of them. It takes time to get back in the game. A month isn’t long enough.” Clint reached behind him and tossed her a harness that had already been secured to the stadium supports. “Strap in. My motorcycle is 50 yards away at 10 o’clock.”

“I’m driving,” she said as she fastened the hooks around her waist.

“No way. My toys, my rules.” Clint gave the support line a sharp tug.

“Do you remember Beijing? I’d like to be able to walk away at the end of the night.” Natasha raised an eyebrow. “I’m driving.”

Clint swore softly. “Fine, just hurry.” He leapt over the side of the stadium and rappelled to the ground. Natasha landed right behind him. They unhooked their lines and ran flat-out toward the motorcycle. 

“Keys,” demanded Natasha as she climbed on and scooted forward on the leather seat.

Clint pressed himself against her back and reached around her. “Thumbprint.” He placed the pad of his thumb over a small circle on the motorcycle dash and it roared to life. His arms tightened around her waist. “The brakes are sensitive, just so you know.”

“Hang on,” she said. The motorcycle shot out from behind the bushes and fishtailed onto the main highway. Car brakes screeched behind them, and a string of Portuguese swearwords followed them down the road.

“So far, you’re making Beijing seem like Disneyland,” quipped Clint. “Through the next light and right.”

Natasha took the turn at full speed, nearly laying the cycle down in the middle of the intersection. “I’d have to dislocate a knee to match the fun of Beijing,” she yelled over her shoulder. 

Clint swiveled his head to look behind them. “We have a tail! Stay straight!” He swung his leg around so he faced backward, yanked an arrow from his quiver and fired it off at the black sedan behind them. It detonated on impact, sending out a shockwave of fire and smoke. Clint gripped the seat with both hands to keep from being blown off the back.

“I’m running out of road here,” Natasha called. “Which way?!”

“Left, then an immediate right!” He flipped back around and grabbed Natasha’s waist hard with both hands. 

The cycle slid through the intersection, narrowly avoiding oncoming traffic, then darted down the side street to the right. Natasha winced. Clint’s vice grip on her hips was going to leave a mark. Traffic cleared out markedly once they reached the next intersection. A few streets later, and the area was entirely residential. “Where are we going?”

He gave her the address of a small, two story home. “I rented the top floor.”

“Of course you did.” Natasha pulled the motorcycle around back of the house and cut the engine. “Are you sure it’s secure?”

“Yeah, but let me go first.” Clint quickly scaled the wall on the back of the house and pried open the rear upper window. 

Natasha shook her head and smiled. Typical. When he leaned out the window to give the all clear signal, she walked around to the front and climbed the stairs to the door of the apartment. Rappelling off the side of a building in heels was hard enough. Scaling a building in them was more effort than she was willing to expend at this point. 

The top floor was an open room with a bed, nightstand, two chairs and an attached bath. A small a/c unit whined from the other window and struggled to stir the humid air. Clint collapsed in the chair and pried off one of his boots. “This is what $50 gets you in Rio.”

“Charming.” Natasha kicked off her heels and sank onto the bed, exhausted. “I still can’t believe I missed so badly on Valdes. He checked out, but I should have caught something.” She unstrapped her holster and placed her 9mm on the nightstand along with her cellphone and the blinking surveillance button.

Clint dropped his other boot and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You should have waited longer before taking a job. Everyone wants a piece of you right now.”

Natasha gave him a wary look. “But not a piece of you? You’re just as guilty of being on the wrong side of the S.H.E.I.L.D. fallout as I am.”

“I grayed out after New York,” Clint said with a shrug. “As far as anyone knows now, I’m a hired gun and that’s it.”

“So, where were you for two years? That’s a long damned time to disappear.” 

Clint stood and started removing his body armor. “Here and there. Spent some time in Egypt. Most recently in Venezuela. Whoever had the cash.” He pointed to the bow propped against the back wall. “You should see some of the add-ons I picked up in the Middle East. It can almost fire itself.”

“Too busy chasing dollars? That doesn’t sound like you.” Natasha shot him a glare sharp enough to cut a diamond.

“I thought your nose was too far up Steve Rogers’ ass to notice.” Clint peeled off his sweaty t-shirt and dropped it next to his boots.

Natasha snorted. 

“What? He’s not your type?” Clint stood right in front of her at the end of the bed, so close their knees nearly touched.

“He’s everyone’s type. Tall, blond, hot.” She leaned back on her hands smirked up at him. “Jealous?”

Clint locked eyes with her. “Maybe.”

“Don’t be. I’m not his type.” She flipped her hair over one shoulder. “He prefers tall, dark and metallic.”

“You’re my type.” Clint knelt down between her knees and slid his hands up the outside of her thighs.

Natasha lifted her foot and placed it squarely between his legs, pressing hard against the bulge in the front of his pants. “After two years? Fuck you.”

He inhaled sharply but didn’t move. “I’m sorry. I should have checked in with you.” His eyes fell on the golden arrow pendant that dangled from her neck. Clint lifted it with his forefinger. “You’re still wearing it.”

“I forgot I had it on.” She turned her head and stared purposely at the hideous lamp on the bedside table.

Clint gripped her chin and forced her eyes back to him. “Bullshit. You didn’t forget.”

She sure as hell hadn’t forgotten his touch, or the way he could master her body, or the way he looked at her like she was the only woman on earth. His dark eyes cut into her like twin daggers. She slapped his hand away. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her hard against him. “It’s not flattery if it’s the truth.” His teeth grazed over the rise of her collarbone. 

Natasha flinched and bit back a yelp. His hands squeezed the same places that he’d gripped her so tightly on the motorcycle. 

Clint released her immediately, pushed gently her back onto the bed and lifted up the hem of her shirt. Ten purplish bruises bloomed on the pale skin of her abdomen. “Sorry,” he said. He dipped his head and kissed each of them one by one. 

Natasha squirmed underneath him. “You’ve done worse,” she gasped.

“Yeah, but not without permission.” He pushed her top up higher and kissed the center of her stomach.

Her fingers brushed over the stubble on his cheek and around behind his neck. “Oh, God,” she said, arching upward into his warm mouth.

Clint mouthed up the peak of her ample breast. “Is that a yes?” He flicked his tongue over the puckered nipple, then kissed it slowly.

She threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled hard until he raised his head. The look in his eyes was positively feral. Desire, primal and vicious, stabbed right through the center of her. Her eyes locked with his and she dragged her tongue over her bottom lip. 

In a heartbeat, he was on her, teeth nipping at the curve of her neck. “Say it,” he growled in her ear. One hand slid under her back, pulling her tight against him, the other slid under her skirt.

“You want me to beg?” Her hand fumbled with the button on his pants and she grunted in frustration.

His fingers dipped under the fabric of her g-string. “Yes.” He tore it away with one sharp tug and slipped two fingers inside her.

Natasha’s hands pushed at his pants until they dropped low enough for her to palm him. “You’re such an arrogant prick,” she panted.

“Close enough,” Clint murmured against her neck. He kissed along the edge of her jaw before claiming her parted lips in a searing kiss. Natasha’s hand guided him to her, and he entered her with a hard thrust. They moved together in a rough, urgent pace, kissing breathlessly. His hands slid under her back, pulling her against him harder with each roll of his hips, bringing them both closer to the release they desperately craved. Natasha arched into him, taking him deeper until they both shuddered in bliss. 

They lay together in the damp sheets, limbs entwined, panting. Clint rolled toward her and brushed an auburn lock back from Natasha’s forehead, a move she found surprisingly touching. She laughed throatily. “Now, you want to be sentimental.” 

Clint shrugged and raised up on one elbow. “I missed you.”

“Two years is a long time.” Natasha searched his face. “Where were you, really? Don’t give me that Egypt bullshit.”

“Deep cover,” he admitted. “I had a tip about a year ago that something big was about to go down, something outside of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers Initiative. By the time I knew enough about HYDRA to do something about it, things had already been set in motion. I couldn’t contact you without compromising us both.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “How deep in cover?”

“Deep enough.” Clint met her gaze and held it. “I know about the covert surveillance, the laboratories, the human experimentation. All of it.”

‘That’s what I wanted to know.” Natasha reached over him for her cellphone.

Clint grabbed her wrist. “What are you doing?”

“Making a call. I’m on a job.” A lazy smile spread across her face.

Clint’s eyes widened as realization dawned on him. “Holy shit.”

Natasha’s grin widened. “A hit on my life lured you out of hiding. That’s so sweet.”

“Valdes, all of it, was a lie?”

“No, Valdes was a legit mark, but he never hired you to take me out.”

“I can’t believe this.” Clint flopped back down on the pillow. “Fury, right?”

“Who else?” She folded her arms and rested her chin on his chest. “He’s got a job for both of us, if we’re up for it.”

Clint grumbled something unintelligible.

“Come on.” Natasha rolled her leg over so she lay on top of him. “We make a good team. Admit it.”

He slid his hand down her back to cup her firm backside. “I admit nothing.”

Natasha licked her lips. “Oh, you will. I can be very persuasive.”

“Trust me, I know,” said Clint as he reached up and pulled her down to him.

~*~

Nick Fury’s phone buzzed, alerting him to an incoming text message. He stepped out of line at the ATM and looked down at his screen.

Yes.

He smiled to himself. “I love it when a plan comes together.”


End file.
